Not sure about this one either... Please Read & Review to tell me what you think :) Enjoy!

Alex,

I feel I need to let out my emotions before it's too late and I end up doing something stupid. I hope that you will understand, and please do not leave me because of this. I wouldn't be able to handle that pain..This is my confession.

People think that I'm some mad girl, locked away. Crazy, hyper, mental. But they're wrong. And I deceived them. What they saw was a disguise. I was hiding my true emotions. They have no idea how my mind works. How every step I take, my soul screams a fraction louder. And my heart burns, all the sorrow I've ever faced rolled into one massive bomb, just waiting to blow me up. To watch my shattered remains as they float gracefully to the ground, still screaming, never at peace.

People think that when I mess up. When I let my guard down, just for a second, and my emotions spill out, that I am a terrible person. They're right. I hate the way I get carried away and end up hurting people, end up hurting myself. People take the madness that is my relief as some sort of stupidity. As if they know a thing about me! They think that I'm just messed up. But really I'm trying to save myself. Trying to escape the path of ticking bombs that lines the halls in which I pass through every day. People do not notice when I'm right. They only laugh when I am wrong. When they try to explain their own emotions, they think I do not understand. But I do. I understand their rage, their anger and their sorrow. I can relate to their despair, their undying love that can never be truly expressed. But I can never understand their happiness.

I don't know how people can be so rude; so up-front and confident in confronting their problems. Nobody knows what I am thinking. Nobody knows the love I feel. When it comes to acting, people think of me as average. But they do not know the truth. I am acting every second of my miserable, pointless life, and only one person has ever seen through it. Not all of it, obviously, but part of it. And when they questioned me, I denied it. Wishing it to be you I gave my first confession. But you are so difficult to decipher. So frustrating to try to solve. You are the puzzle for which I do not know the answer. So I guess I must just wait for it to unfold. Like the wings of a butterfly, taking its first breath away from its cocoon. Freshly transformed. New life. Beautiful. You know, beautiful eyes are drawn to beautiful things. That's what they say, anyway. But I can't afford to think like that. Not ever. Not always.

I would die. Die if you would let me. I would curl up and scream and scream and let all the anger, all the despair, just simply leak out of me. I would close my eyes and feel it drain away. Slowly wishing for it to last a little longer. Prolong my punishment. For I believe that I deserve it. When I try to reach out, you just push me away. Thinking that I am acting at the only point when I am not. Thinking that I am just some attention-seeking child. You tell me to open up. You say you tell me everything. But I can tell when you are lying. When I try to let it out. To give you a small glimpse of my pain, you ignore it. You waft your hand and wipe it away. So I close up on my self. Losing another drop of confidence. Clench my fists and laugh it off. But I am only laughing on the outside.

You have no idea what goes on inside my head. No matter what you think, I do understand. I do. You just won't believe me. Those three words make my eyes sting every time. 'You wouldn't understand' Every time you utter them, I feel my heart tighten; my throat close up. You are the one that doesn't understand. Do not try to tell me any different. I know what I'm thinking. I remember what I've said. I know how I feel. You have no idea. The pain. The suffering. Every day another relentless struggle to survive. For so long now, I don't know what survival is any more.

The amount of times I have stared longingly at the kitchen knives. Or wished for that scary-looking person behind to be following me with a weapon in his pocket. How I glance at the traffic on the busy road as I sit in the car, and wonder what would happen if I were to un-do my seat belt and open the door. So many tears. So many words. So much agonising misery. I feel numb just thinking. As I stare at the wall with a blank expression, willing myself to confront the torturous aching in my soul. To never give in. But I think I already have. I am dead. There is nothing left.

As the anger surges in my veins I long to strike out. To destroy everything and everyone in my path. To mourn my innocence. To lie down on the cold hard floor and die right there and then. To kill anyone who ever got in my way. To shake myself until I see sense. To fall down and down, into a bottomless pit. Filling myself with all the cool air that brushes past my face. To sink into the water and take a breath. Cough, choke and cry. Until all of the pain has seeped out of my unforgiving body. Gone. But I'm too scared to let that happen. Too cautious. All I need is to lose control. To get so far lost in desperation that I do not think before I end my fear. End the suffering. End it all. End it…

You probably don't believe a word of this. But I assure you that it is all true. I will always know that, even if you refuse to believe it. Please forgive me. Please forget. No. Never forget. Never lose it. Never. Keep hold of it with both hands and never let go. Because if you do, I will have nothing left. No one. Alone for all of eternity. Unable to love. Unable to live. Unable to keep hold of it on my own. I need help. I cannot survive without it. That is survival. Love. The love of those around you. And hope. Holding it all in. You will probably think that this sounds stupid. That I am just using another technique to gain attention. But I'm not. All I want is for you to understand. If you can just work out what I mean by this mess of a confession, you will know everything. It's just a matter of believing it.

Layla.

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